when the water rises and there's no returning
by teddylupin-snape
Summary: The war tears apart families and leaves trauma in its wake. It's hard to shake that. / Ron&Bill sibling bonding


_I never get there quick enough._

 _I'm clawing at the shards of ice floating through the water, desperate to push myself closer to him, desperate to do something good for once. Every nerve in my body is numb and screaming at the cold pain. I can't give up now._

 _I keep diving deeper, keep swimming after that glint of gold. But I never became Seeker for a reason, I suppose. Because the waves shove me off track and Harry floats further out of my grasp. That damned locket takes him deeper to a place I cannot follow._

 _I wish I could._

 _I wish that locket was around my neck instead, pulling me down to hell with it._

 _Then, suddenly, it is. And I'm grasping at my throat, trying to scream but all it produces is a steady stream of bubbles and the strain of friction and cold metal against my neck. My whole body feels constricted. I'm sure I can hear someone cast Incarcerous on me and it's all I can do to keep pushing against the bonds. My hands are turning blue and I can't breathe._

 _I can't breathe,_ I can't breathe.

"Ron! Ron, calm down, hey!" Someone's hands grab my wrists, holds them steady. It's grounding. My eyes focus on Bill – he looks worried and exhausted, but he's got a calming air about him. It's infectious, and I've never been more grateful.

Bill sits down next to me on the bed, his eyes trailing down to take in the sight that is my bed right now. It's a mess, I realize. My sheets are twisted tight around my limbs, my skin is coated in the sheen of sweat. This isn't the first night I've woken up to nightmares since the war. I can't even remember the last time I slept through the night. Years ago, probably.

"Another nightmare?"

I don't take my eyes off my blankets. It's a tell and we both know it, but I can't bring myself to look him in the eyes because Bill's eyes look just like Fred's and it's too much. It's all too much.

"I'm fine," I say through gritted teeth.

"Oh," Bill says, a faux-geniality to his tone that makes me look at him, if only to roll my eyes. "Great. Now that I'm reassured that you're doing well emotionally, I'll just go, shall I?" There's silence for a moment. He wants me to say something or look at him, at the very least, but I don't. There's no point in denying it. "C'mon, Ron. After all you've gone through, I'd be concerned if you _weren't_ having nightmares every night. You can talk to me about it, y'know."

He's right. I sigh, finally looking up at him. He perks up the tiniest bit at this, but his face looks as drawn as mine does lately.

"In all my dreams lately," I say, talking without thinking so I can't take it back. I need to get it out of my head. "I keep dying, or—or nearly dying. And sometimes I wish I did, 'cause it'd be easier. Fuck it, y'know? We're going to die anyway." My voice is as quiet as it can go, but I know without a doubt that Bill still heard every word.

" _Ron_ ," he breathes, because he's not sure what he can say to that. I wouldn't know either. He rests his hand on my knee, and despite his intentions, I want to push it off. Instead, I grab a book off my bedside table, throwing it at the wall across the room. It flutters down to the ground, landing in a way that folds nearly every page. Briefly, I picture how Hermione would react to seeing such a thing, but now there are tears streaming down my face. Bill is tentative but wraps his arms around me tightly. I let myself fall apart in his arms, melt into the hug, cry into the wool of his dark purple jumper. He rubs soothing circles into my back as my sobs cause my whole body to tremor against his.

After a moment, I hiccup back another sob, pulling back. "It never gets better, does it?"

"Not really. It gets easier. Easier to forget, easier to go on with life. But it'll always be a part of you. We all have our scars, Ron. This one, it's huge. Especially after—after Fred," he ends in a whisper. Bill swallows hard, and I wrap an arm around his shoulder. My gaze drifts off out the window, gazing at the moon, stark white against the dark night. It looks so peaceful.

"Is dad home? He was at work late again…"

"He is. Got back when I was heading up to sleep."

"And you," I ask. "When are you going back home?"

Bill sighs. "Fleur's still back in France with her family. And I don't want to leave here just yet. But I miss her. Days like this, it's hard being apart."

We're both quiet for a while. I keep my eyes fixed on the sky beyond the Burrow. Bill looks around the small bedroom, as though he's mentally in a far-off place, a decade earlier and a lifetime easier.

"I've got an idea."

I look at him, an eyebrow raised in question. With a glance at the clock, I see it's nearly three in the morning. Giving him a confused look, I follow his lead and stand up.

"Merlin, when'd you get so tall?" Bill's about the same height as I am. I'd always thought of him as the tall one, he's been about dad's height for as long as I can remember. But I'm growing older, too. Nothing's made that plainer than the war has. "You should put on shoes, and you might want to grab a jacket."

"Where are we going?"

Bill doesn't answer. He goes down the stairs quickly, still muscle memory after all those years living away from home. I'm still pulling on my trainers, ignoring the laces until we reach the bottom of the steps and Bill leads me outside. I hang back by the door to the backyard, leaning against the house and tying my shoes as Bill jogs over to the broom shed. He grabs my broom and his own, handing the former over. "Think we could both use a bit of flying right about now. Plus, I haven't gotten to play you since before you made the house team. You might have some skill now."

I laugh at the banter. Normally, I might not. But things have changed, and anything that can make me laugh lately is more than worth it.

"Just you watch. You're old and rusty, I'll sweep the floor with you."

"You should lose just for that horrible pun, Ronnie." He kicks off, soaring high above the tree line without a care. I keep close behind him, living for the rush of wind through my hair. "Better?" Bill calls over his shoulder.

"Better."

.

 **A/N: Written for:**

 **Quidditch League Round 12: Write about Ron's relationship with one of his siblings. Prompts: (object) Book, (image) Moonrise, (song) For the River – Nickelback;**

 **Writing Club – Character Appreciation 13: (trait) Honest; Disney Challenge 2: Write about someone falling apart; Cookie's Crafty Corner 9: Write about flying; Book Club – Barbara: (trait) Calm, (dialogue) "We all have our scars, [Name].", (emotion) Depressed; Showtime 9: (plot point) Coming to terms with someone's death; Amber's Attic 10: (dialogue) "Is [name] home?"; Lyric Alley 2: Couldn't look you in the eye; Ami's Audio Admirations 2: Write in first person; Sophie's Shelf 8: (setting) Within a dream; Em's Emporium 2: (emotion) confused; Angel's Arcade 8: (character) Bill Weasley, (action) throwing something, (phrase) 'days like this'; Lo's Lowdown C2: Write about an older sibling;**

 **Gris Gris: (setting) The Burrow;**

 **Seasonal – Days of the Year: Oct 4: Write about something that relaxes a character; Autumn Prompts: (weather) Windy; Color Prompts: Dark Purple; Birthstones: Blue Zircon: (dialogue) "Fuck it. We're going to die anyway."; Flowers: Witch Hazel: (word) Soothe; Elemental: (object) Broomstick; Audrey's Dessert Challenge: (dialogue) "When did you get so tall?"; Ravenclaw Challenge: (trait) Competitive; Star Chart: (emotion) Frustration;**

 **Fortnightly – Mental Health 16: Write about post-traumatic stress;**

 **Holmes – (spell) Incarcerous;**

 **Dragons and Writing Month: wc 1163**


End file.
